


Second

by earth_dragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But mostly fluff!, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/pseuds/earth_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn’t want Ron to be his second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second

 “Ron, NO! You can’t… ”

“The hell I can’t! I’m your second, aren’t I?” And with those words Ron wrapped his hands around Harry’s, which were tightly gripping the splintering wand.

Harry felt a surge of heat tingle from the tips of his fingers, back through his hands and up his arms; it felt like fire, like lava, it pooled inward towards his chest and then burst out of his heart, hotter than any lightning strike could ever hope to be. The power of it ripped through his head and Harry blinked furiously to clear the tears from his stinging eyes.

Suddenly the Dark Lord gave a horrendous, terrible scream, and Harry could see lava dripping from his eyes, ears, mouth, and even his snake-like nose. Cracks formed across his face, down his arms and along his chest, and the bubbling, smoking liquid erupted through the fissures, coating him. He was totally consumed by it — and then he was gone. The once all-powerful Dark Lord was reduced to nothing more than harmless, lazily floating ashes.

The lava grew cold and the connection with Voldemort suddenly snapped in two, and Harry and Ron fell to the ground, unconscious.

Harry woke up in St. Mungo’s with the worst headache of his entire life, and then he remembered that Voldemort was really and truly dead. Destroyed. Beyond any question. His headache eased a little then.

“About bloody time! I thought you were going to sleep forever!”

Harry whipped his head around, mindless of the pain it might cause. Ron was here. He was talking. He was a great, miserable, fucking, wonderful, daft, wonderful, loving, wonderful PRAT! And he was alive.

Harry shuffled from his bed and over to Ron’s, and flopped back down. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ron, equally groggily, replied “How you doing?”

“Head hurts. You?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Ron frowned. “How’s that?”

Harry scowled. “Because, you arse, you could have been killed!”

“Yeah?” Ron retorted, “You could have been too!”

Harry could not dispute that.

“Besides, I’m your second,” Ron reminded him.

Harry squirmed a bit; he really was uncomfortable with that term, even though Ron had used it ever since first year when he was supposed to have dueled with Malfoy.

“Mmm, don’t like that,” Harry admitted with much more honesty than usual. But how often do you defeat the darkest of the Dark Lords — for good — with the help of your incredibly daft and wonderful best mate? And then wake up next to said best mate in the hospital, still under the influence of some ridiculously powerful medicinal potions? Not often, Harry would wager.

“Don’t like what?”

“My second. You shouldn’t have to be my second. You should just be…” And here Harry paused. What should Ron be? “My Wheezy. You should just be my Wheezy!” he decided.

Ron looked at him oddly for a moment, but then gave him a small, lop-sided grin. “You need to have your glasses fixed, mate.”

“Huh, what’s that got to do with anything?”

“You really are blind,” Ron said. “You don’t get it. “I’m your second _because_ I’m your Wheezy.”

Ron’s lop-sided grin became a full on smile and once again Harry felt a warmth tingle its way up through his chest and settle in his heart. “Oh,” he whispered. “Yeah.” Maybe he was still groggy and maybe his head hurt like someone had dropped a Hippogriff on it, but he could honestly see now, with or without his glasses. He smiled too.

Ron chuckled. “Get some more sleep, Harry.”

“Okay, only if you do too.” Harry nudged his head over near Ron’s on the pillow. He heard Ron sigh gently.

“’Night, Harry.”

“’Night, Wheezy.”


End file.
